


Eternal Winter and frozen handsome boys.

by koalaoshiz



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Hypothermia, M/M, Meet Cute I guess?, The lions are sheeps, no beta we die like men, or like non english natives without betas at the ready
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalaoshiz/pseuds/koalaoshiz
Summary: Not a lot of things remains in the world after the first decades of the nuclear winter but as the temperatures settles and people began travelling once more, some findings are more surprising than others. Which is not to deplease Lance, even at the cost of a heartattack.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Kudos: 18





	Eternal Winter and frozen handsome boys.

There's sun today, Lance constats as he walks up the hill to his sheep's pasture, the rays weakly reflecting on snowy ground. Around him is a decent flock of wooly beasts who are eager to trot past him and finally be free to search for moss and roots in this freezing land. 

Lance loved his sheeps. They were smart, gentle and obedient. With their thick wool, bio-engineered to be waterproof and keep warm whatever the weather, they were the Arus tribe's pride. And about one of the few good things that still remained after the Doomsday. 

They consumed little, produced and reproduced quickly and their [rejects] didn't smell even when burnt, making it a sustainable combustible all year round. Food, warmth. Life. Without their sheep, their tribe would be unable to eat anything, wouldn't be able to trade and that would mean either their death or the inevitable moment where they would have to join another tribe for a chance of survival. 

Lance remembers his elder talking about technological wonders as he hops above slippery rocks: the cars that would bring them anywhere they wanted at a fast pace, central heating brought by gas and water that was hot with the turn of a dial, of at home entertainment like televisions and ‘vide games’. 

But most importantly, the one thing that always brought stars in his eyes: planes. The idea of being able to freely roam the sky, travel great distances and see only a sea of clouds appealed to him, stuck on this frozen land. Spreading his arms, Lance remembered the time he asked his grand-mother about planes once more. 

“Tell me about planes.” His five year old self had asked one night, sitting in her lap as she taught him how to make yarn out of the wool. 

“Planes were magnificent beasts made by man, little lamb. They were fat, with hard noses and large wings and transported hundreds of people inside of their bellies every single day. They traversed large distances without being tired. My grand-mother piloted one, you know?”

“How fat were they?” He asked, fingers rough from working the wool with her. 

“Very fat.” She had answered. 

“Like snow geese?”

“Like snow geese.” And after that, they always laughed at their inside joke. Until she died, he always asked her about planes, despite the thousands of old technology she remembered being taught by her grandparents. He wanted to know how it felt, to be free from gravity and see everything from above. He wanted to one day pilot one, even if their carcasses had long since been [raided] for parts.

He was a plane, a bird, soaring in the sky Lance imagined, walking along the path carved by dozens of feet when he suddenly tripped on something softer than a rock and tougher than a moss patch. 

Falling head first into a snow pile, Lance whipped his head backwards to see what he walked on, ready to laugh at himself for not being attentive but his mind halted and his guts churned as he saw, instead of the snow or moss he had expected, the alarming sight of a body.

Half covered in snow, the person was wearing dark deep snow clothes but no matter how tightly it was woven or how waterproof it was, the cold would _always_ find its way inside. Lance didn't know how long they had been laying face down in the snow but he was pretty sure their situation wasn't good. 

It was Lance's responsibility, their life - if they weren't already dead - was in his hands. Swallowing down his nerves, Lance whistled high, the piercing sound cutting through the cold air and quickly answered by a bleat and followed soon after by the wooly body of Blue, his best sheep. 

Blue was a relatively big sheep, her back reaching his shoulders and her bright blue eyes were sparkling with intelligence and warmth. While not the leader of her flock - Black was, as she was the biggest with the meanest set of horns - she was Lance's favorite sheep and one of the most obedient. 

"Blue, beautiful. I need you to get this stranger to our camp, fast!" 

He could see her process the orders - save, home, fast - before kneeling in the snow, allowing Lance to lift the person by the armpits so he could place him on Blue’s back. A few strands of black hair strayed from under the dark hood. Lance couldn’t quite see their face but guessing by the weight and how sturdy the muscles of the chest were, this unknown person seemed to be a man. 

He straps the man (?) onto Blue’s back quickly and efficiently as muscle memory from emergency training lead him to do when he felt a heavy nudge on his back, more of a soft tackle than anything else. The pointy horns told him who did it before he even turned to look at Red, a dark wooled sheep that snorted at him before kneeling beside him. Right. He would be way faster if there weren’t two people on Blue’s back.

“Thanks, girl.” He sighed in relief, patting his neck right before he had to grip on her wool as both sheep began sprinting through the frozen land, past slippery rocks and above holes in the ground towards the plumes of smokes coming from his tribe’s village. 

Wind whipped at his face even through the cover of his scarf as the two sheep ran as fast as they could to Lance’s village as the young shepherd kept a close look to his charge, worrying upon how unresponsive they were, especially when sheeps weren’t comfortable to ride on, even with the soft wool on them. Their pace was strikingly different from the only horse he had ever mounted and his behind always regretted its supple gait. 

It took only ten minutes to get back home with such a fast pace but for Lance, it felt way too long and the few adults coming out of their yurt in alarm at his sudden presence. As Lance was supposed to stay until nightfall in the pastures, him coming back this urgently only meant trouble.

"It's an emergency! We need to warm him immediately!" Lance yelled as he stumbled off Red's back, struggling to take off his knots, grimacing slightly when one of his uncles straight up cut through the straps before taking the stranger over his shoulder towards their family Yurt, more accurately Lance's side of their home. 

Right. Even if now healing that stranger - if it was even possible - would require a team effort, Lance would be responsible of him until he left their tribe… or died.

While his sister began warming water, Lance let his uncle start the heating in his room as he started stripping the stranger so his wet clothes would not bring his temperature down any longer. And, alright, he was clearly a man and closer to Lance's age than he initially thought. 

Veronica brought him several warm water bottles that were placed along the stranger's neck, chest and groin, above a first layer of blanket before more were dumped on him, strategically placed to ensure he would be warmed all over. 

With that done and the stranger covered from head to toe, with only his face visible, Lance began relaxing slightly, reassured to know at least he hadn't done anything stupid up to this point. With a small hand mirror, he checked the guy's breathing, sighing in relief when he saw it fogging up. Good. At least, he hadn't brought in a dead body.

The next few hours, Lance kept guard at the stranger's side, barely acknowledging his uncle leaving their yurt to get their sheep back or his parents coming home after work, leaving a tray of food and tea beside him. 

The stranger fascinated him, with his jet black hair and his face that was adorably handsome. His blued lips were slowly getting back colors, just like his cheeks which were now slightly pink. 

He didn't look like someone from a neighbor tribe but the cut of his clothes reminded Lance of his own tribe's craft. It was probably a custom order and he could count on his fingers how many were made with such wool, especially seeing the burgundy shades it took at some places. Yep, definitely from Red, Lance concluded as he examined the outer layer. 

Since he wasn't the one making the clothes, he had no idea where they ended up and who would wear them so it brought absolutely nothing substantial to his investigation. He'd have to ask directly, then. 

The warm room made his eyes heavy and with the knowledge the guy wasn't going to die on him, Lance judged dozing off wouldn't hurt.

He's woken up abruptly from his catnap as he heard the sound of someone struggling to move, the stranger finally awake, somewhat. He was looking around in a delirious way as if he couldn't [understand] where he was. Then he turned his head enough so his purple eyes locked onto his own, mesmerizing Lance. 

"Am I dead?" He asked, voice raspy but deep.

"Why would you be dead?" Lance chuckled at that, resting his chin on the palm of his hands. 

"Pretty angel… warm…" the stranger mumbled, his eyes fluttering close, missing the blush appearing on Lance's cheeks. It made him feel giddy inside. Although he was a flirt himself, it was pleasantly strange to be complimented so genuinely, even if the guy was half delirious from hypothermia. 

"What's your name, pretty boy?" Lance asked, leaning forward to brush a few strands of silky black hair off the stranger's attractive face. 

"Keith." He mumbled and Lance smiled at him as Keith fell back asleep, his breathing stable and regular. 

"I'll take care of you, Keith." Lance whispered in his ears, shuffling on his own blankets to rest his eyes a little more, reassured that Keith wasn't going to die on him if he slept a little. 

Tomorrow, he'll have answers to his questions. Yet, he hoped Keith would stay, because he was the first one to make his heart beat faster in a long while.


End file.
